Weeks passed. I began volunteering with Alzheimer's patients, holding their hands, singing lullabies, telling stories. And in each smile I saw, I felt a spark of her presence.
One little boy giggled when I tickled his hand, and I swore I felt my mother's laughter in the air. One elderly woman hugged me unexpectedly, whispering, "You remind me of my daughter." Each moment was a small bridge to her, proof that love leaves traces.
I learned to find her in the echoes of others, in the quiet patience of care, in acts of kindness. Tears still came, often, but they were now mixed with purpose. The sorrow had not gone, but it had softened, transforming into a strength I never knew I possessed.